Assist Me
by StarvingWriterMaeve
Summary: Helga's a million dollar author in need of a little help, and not just with her work. That's when an old friend becomes her new assistant. AU.
1. Prologue: New Assistant Needed

**A/N:** Alternate Universe (Details to come).

Helga's a million dollar author in need of a little help. And not just with her work.

* * *

><p><strong>Assist Me<strong>

**_Prologue_ - New Assistant Needed**

* * *

><p>The <em>rat-tat-tap<em> of fingers against the plastic keys continued to keep the office moving at a fast pace as Helga stormed down the hall. Her heels' clicking was muffled by the white shag carpet, but the stomp in her step could not be missed. The other four assistants carefully peered out from behind their cubicles, only to duck down again in fear.

Helga G. Pataki was mad. And you never wanted to be around when she was mad.

"BETH!" she snarled, slamming a manilla envelope onto the empty counter top.

The petite red head removed her iPod headphones, shocked to see her boss so angry. "My name is Brittany," she replied quietly.

"Whatever, Bailey, you sent the wrong papers to Penguin! You sent them my sister's emails! They're laughing at me in Conference Room 3 right now!" Helga thrashed her arm violently to the left, knocking over a vase of flowers and a pencil cup. "Get them the right papers and clean up your desk."

Brittany did not move.

Helga wanted to lean forwards and smack the glasses off her acne covered face. "_NOW_!" As Bronwen, or _whatever_, fled her desk, Helga sighed and rubbed her temples. She felt the shocked gaze of the other assistants and quickly adjusted her white blouse before glaring back at them. "All of you, back to work!"

The undergraduate students quickly fell into their chairs, fingers furiously returning to type responses e-mails or new corrections to the next bestsellers.

Helga hated assistants. She'd gone through five in the past month. No one could work as well as she did or do anything the way she wanted. Mary, the Temp Employer on Level 10, was beginning to get to know Helga very well.

Back on Level 21, Helga resumed a casual walk to her office. She had been lucky enough to coerce the Justin-Klein Office Building Landlord into giving her an office half a floor above the rest. At the end of the carpeted hallway, past the rows of cubicles lining the middle, and to the right, there were a set of stairs. Up the steps was a frosted glass door, reading HELGA G. PATAKI - AUTHOR. Inside was Helga's personal heaven.

She had spent months customizing her office because she spent more time there than anywhere else. The office was incredibly large, it had a very fancy waiting area with two leather couches and a flat screen TV. The hardwood floors always brought echoes, but Helga found it helpful for when she wasn't expecting company.

To the left of the waiting room was another sealed off room, which contained her office. Inside, a large window overlooked downtown New York, while a broad oak wood desk became her place for writing. She kept her office neat, with nothing else inside besides a chair for meetings. She had another room on the opposite side where she'd sleep on busy nights. Sometimes she'd just crash in her desk chair. In her makeshift bedroom she used an old bookshelf as a closet. She had a small bathroom as well.

It was nice. Cramped, but comfortable. And much nicer than her shitty apartment in the city.

The rampant footsteps of Beth's running feet made Helga stand. She rested her backside against the front of her desk, arms crossed over her chest disapprovingly, waiting to scold the absentminded teen.

Brittany opened the door hurriedly, "I did what you said, Miss Pataki."

Helga knew what she had to do. "You're fired."

Brittany's body fell against the door as it bounced against the wall. "I'm f-f-fired?"

"Yes," Helga rose to her feet, "you're lazy, late to work almost every day, terrible with taking directions and, frankly, I really don't care for red heads."

Brittany's jaw hung open wide. "I cannot believe you-!"

Helga held a recently manicured finger to the girl's lips. "I'd advise you to zip your lip and leave before I call security." Helga returned to her desk and waited for her ex-assistant to leave.

Brittany's lower lip trembled as she nodded.

Helga grinned, propping her feet up on her desk, before waving goodbye. She shouted, "Nice working with you Brianna!"

"My name is _Brittany_!" she screamed as she slammed the large wooden door.

Helga rolled her eyes before pressing down on her phone's intercom button, "Mary, can you find me a new assistant? Send them up ASAP."

"Oh, yes, I have someone right here, actually." The older woman, who appreciated Helga's charm and beautiful smile, quickly began directing the next bright, young hopeful upstairs. Mary made sure to stress the fact that "the new kid" was lucky to work for Helga G. Pataki, New York Times Best Selling, multi-million dollar author.

Helga loved her job. She got to sit around all day in an office, order awesome take-out, boss around her assistant and write.

The constant flow of money had been keeping her father, Big Bob, off her back and on her bank account. Growing up, he had put too much pressure on her to be perfect. When Helga failed, she retreated and lost a chance at a good relationship with her father. She really didn't mind too much though. Her mother never had much to say besides, "At least you tried your best."

Recently, Helga bought her parents a new house in Florida and they retired drunk and happy. Just as long as they were far away, she didn't care. Helga even splurged and payed off Bob's mortgage so her super-perfect older sister Olga could live easily back in Hillwood. Everything was good with her family, all thanks to-

The sound of the door opening again jostled Helga from her thoughts.

"Hello-"

Helga rocked in her chair, bringing her feet back to the floor, "Call me Miss Pataki and you're dead."

Her new assistant chuckled, "Wouldn't dream of it, Pigtails."

Helga's head shot up, jaw dropping as she looked into the all too familiar eyes. "_Son of a bitch_."


	2. Day 1: Kiss Ass

Assist Me

**_Day One_ - Kiss Ass-istance**

* * *

><p>Gerald Johannsen grinned as he sauntered into the room with an air of confidence Helga hadn't seen in years. Even the simple act of entering a room looked like art in motion.<p>

God, she hated him.

His solid red tie swayed under his expensive gray suit as he walked towards the empty chair. He quickly unfastened his jacket as he took a seat, continuing with his fluid motions. It was as if he was the definition of _smooth_. Even his hair, the one messy thing about him, had become less curly and more manageable.

Helga continued to glare at her old classmate, blue eyes never leaving his. "What are you doing here, _Geraldo_?"

He smirked that oh too cocky smile she had resented for years. "I heard poor little Pataki was falling apart without me."

Helga tossed her head back and laughed, "Get over yourself and out of high school!"

Gerald shrugged casually. "So," he turned his attention to examining the back of his hand as if he were bored, "multi-million dollar author?"

Helga felt her heart surge with pride. For once, she was doing better than her old friend/enemy.

Growing up, Helga and Gerald had always competed to be the best. Gerald used his coolness factor to be seen as better. He dated tons of girls, starting in fourth grade. He took a sixth grade girl out at nine years old, and that was it. That date sealed his fate to become the super cool, suave womanizer of Hillwood. And every girl fell for it.

It made Helga sick. So she stuck to her tomboyish, bullying nature and refused to let Gerald get away with breaking girl's hearts. She tried hard to one-up him in everything possible, from grades to number of dates to fastest baseball pitch. But Helga always came in second.

Until now.

Finally, after twenty-two years of knowing Gerald, Helga was better than him.

"No, in all seriousness, Pataki, I need a job. I just moved here with-"

Helga's gaze fell upon Gerald's left hand, jaw dropping once again. He was wearing a _ring_! "You have a wife? Gerald '_The Man'_ Johannsen is tied down?" She burst into a fit of giggles. "Please tell me who the poor sap is before I die of laughter."

Gerald knew Helga would die alright.

"You remember, uh. . .Phoebe?"

Helga's spine stiffened against her chair and the laughs silenced. "Phoebe, as in my best friend of fifteen years. . ._that _Phoebe?"

Gerald's smirk faded to a lovestruck smile.

Helga's body flew forwards in her chair, palms smacking the desktop hard. "YOU MARRIED PHOEBE?"

Gerald nodded, never flinching at the level in Helga's voice. "I'll tell you how she fell for me later. But more importantly, she's doing a ton of complicated medical doctorate work at Colombia right now and I need a job. I can't just let her go off and do the work all by herself. And, as luck would have it, my good old friend Helga Pataki needs an assistant." He leaned forwards and playfully hit his knuckles against her chin, as if that showed they were buddy-buddy.

Helga's mind was reeling. What the hell had happened since high school? It had only been seven years since they last seen each other. There was no way that was long enough for a smart, level-headed girl like Phoebe Hyerdahl to fall in love with a class-a jerk like Gerald!

But now Helga couldn't help but picture poor Phoebe overworking herself doing research in a lab somewhere, stressing out over a problem she couldn't solve. And she could imagine her coming home to Gerald sitting on his ass, doing nothing and complaining about the lack of food in their house.

Even though they hadn't spoken since first starting college, Helga still cared about her friend._ Goddamn it, Phoebe. If I still didn't have a soft spot for your well being. . ._

Helga groaned and collapsed helplessly back into her chair. "I'm only hiring you to take some pressure of Phoebe, alright? You're on a one week paid probation. If it doesn't work out, I'll send fabulous reviews to every company from here to Wall Street."

Gerald smiled. "You won't regret this, Pataki."

"I'm your boss now, Geraldo, and I prefer to be called Helga. No more Pataki. Definitely no more Pigtails."

Gerald jumped to his feet and saluted, "You got it boss. What's my first assignment?"

Helga tapped her keyboard absentmindedly as she tried to think of a simple task for Gerald to perform. "Call up Penguin and reschedule a meeting for me. My last assistant screwed me over and I hate to leave them with a bad impression."

Gerald nodded as he whipped out his iPhone and began furiously typing a To-Do List.

He wanted to succeed at this. It was well known that Helga payed her assistants extremely well if they lasted longer than a week.

Gerald knew how Helga's mind worked. He had the benefit of sixteen years of knowing her. There was only one way to win Helga over, and damn it, he was going to have to kiss ass to do it.

* * *

><p>Helga didn't hear a peep or complaint out of Gerald until noon, when he came barging into her office as she was typing mid-sentence. She waved her right hand distractedly to acknowledge his minor interruption.<p>

Gerald noticed her intense concentration and decided to tip-toe across the room. After calling Penguin at 9:30 am, and winning them over with his charm, he figured he could take it upon himself to improve Helga's work life.

Kissing ass was essentially changing someone's life, whether it was with compliments, favors, treats, or going above and beyond. Gerald was going to have to go beyond the beyond to change Helga's work life.

He noticed a few things after the brief moments he was in her office and created another To-Do list.

1. There were no decorations, inspiring art pieces or anything homey about her office. That had to change.

2. She did not have a smart phone. Who used a T-Moblie Rzr in these modern times? The elderly, that's who.

3. She did not dress professionally. Heels, dark jeans and a t-shirt didn't say 'professional.'

But he would get to those problems eventually.

First things first, he knew Helga needed some good food and coffee. She looked like she hadn't eaten in days.

And luckily, after growing up with her, Gerald learned a few things about her eating habits. Hillwood was a well developed city with dozens of different types of restaurants, It was no where near as diverse as New York, so Gerald stuck to the basics.

Helga was a sucker for greasy food. There were only two fast food-like diners in Hillwood, and Helga had sampled everything on their menu at least ten times growing up. But he knew she loved a classic hamburger the most.

He could still remember the last time they'd all eaten at Joe's together, after prom. Helga had gone with an old classmate, Brian. They were all a little drunk, but laughing and having a good time. Phoebe had been the designated driver, and at the time was dating some random genius guy. Not that he cared anymore.

Gerald didn't really remember much of senior prom. He just remembered taking a lot of pictures, dancing with every girl at the dance, and laughing so hard at Joe's, and in his one moment of uncoolness, shot milkshake out of his nose.

Helga suddenly pulled away from her laptop, eyes narrowed at the brown bag in Gerald's hand.

"Oh, God, is that a burger?" Helga's nose wrinkled in disgust. She knew immediately from the scent of fried grease and onions.

"Yeah," Gerald waved the bag in front of her face. "I bought it for you."

"_Ew. _I haven't been able to eat a hamburger since our senior prom."

Gerald's shoulders collapsed. This was _not _going well at all. "Why not?"

Helga's voice faded as she recalled the embarrassing moment, "Brian and I hooked up and things got messy."

Gerald sat down and leaned forwards across her desk, "Messy as in. . .?"

"I puked on his feet."

Gerald had to force a cough to hold back from laughing. "Oh, Helga."

Helga spun around in her chair before stopping to kick her feet up, "Who cares? It was high school! I haven't heard from Brainy in years." Helga began to toy with her fallen strands of hair, struggling to pull the short pieces back up into the bun and tie it together under her pink bow. She had worn the bow since she was younger. Growing up, it helped remind people that she was still feminine, even though she was tough as steel. Now it was more like a reminder of simpler times.

Now Gerald started laughing as he remembered Brian's old nickname. "You still call him Brainy?"

"_Moving on_," Helga forcefully changed the subject and reached for the cup of coffee sitting on her desk, "tell me what Penguin said."

Gerald whipped out his iPhone to read the e-mail they had sent him. "'Dear Miss Pataki, we are looking forward to your next book, hoping that a manuscript will appear in our office by the end of this year. We hope for the best luck of -'"

"You got me another book deal?"

Gerald couldn't decipher her tone. She didn't sound too excited, but at the same time, not as angry as she usually was. "Yes?"

"I've been working them for months to get them to agree to a new deal." She paused. "Wow. I'm impressed."

"But that only leaves you six months to write another novel."

Helga waved her hand again, "Only minor details, Gerald. Okay." She held up her fingers and began counting, "Now I need you to call my editor, set up an emergency meeting for tomorrow. I also need to figure out what the hell I'm going to write."

Gerald typed everything Helga was saying, "Okay. Got it. Anything else?"

"Start me on another interview circuit. I need to get word out I'm writing another book. Oh, and I need a new dust jacket photo taken and a revamped up website."

"Wow, you really are falling apart."

"There's so much-" Helga suddenly began furiously digging through the papers in her desk. The stress all came crashing down again. Lightbulb after lightbulb was flashing over her head. She needed to pay rent on her apartment, call her sister and check on the house, muster up the courage to call Big Bob. . .and didn't she have some ridiculous Writer's Party to host next week?

This was just the kind of wake up call she needed to really start working again. This past month had been nothing but firing and hiring assistants.

Helga screamed in frustration when she realized she was just mindlessly flipping through work notices. Gerald stared at her, only to hold up his finger, telling to her wait.

Helga shut her eyes and counted her breaths as Gerald disappeared. The nauseating scent of the hamburger slowly began to fade, only to be masked by Gerald's cologne as he returned.

He held up a white plastic bag with a familiar gray fruit. "I bought you something today. This will change your life." Gerald lifted the new iPhone 4S out of its box, "I have been setting up since I got back from getting lunch. I added in all of your important numbers, e-mails, upcoming dates, and personal information that's stored in the companies database. You now have the world at your fingertips and the ability to video conference with anyone who owns a Mac."

Helga hesitantly smiled at her old frenemy before cautiously picking up the iPhone.

"Oh, and one more thing. . ." Gerald pulled out a light pink case. "I drop mine all the time, and I figured you would too."

She laughed as she turned the shiny white phone around in her palm. "Damn, Gerald. . .you are really proving yourself today."

"What can I say? I like to be the best."

Helga rolled her eyes before mumbling, "Of course you do."

* * *

><p>After work, Helga forced herself to return to her apartment.<p>

It was a shitty little place hidden in the depths of Brooklyn. Very dirty and in an unsafe neighborhood, it was the only place she could afford post-college with a freelance writing gig. One bedroom, half-bath and co-ed showers at the end of each hall. It was a lot like college. Only dirtier, if that was possible.

Much to her dismay, the water and electricity had been shut off. Fortunately, she still had a little time left before an eviction notice came, so she decided to start packing. She kept her thick winter coats in a closet, had a few other bits of clothing hanging around, but nothing too important. She must have moved anything sentimental to her office months ago.

Helga pulled a dusty suitcase from the top shelf of a bookcase and began packing. Anything and everything that had been hers, whether it was valuable or not, was being taken.

She needed to get the hell out of there. She felt as if bugs were crawling on her skin. She finally finished around 9:30 pm, which was a dangerous time to go out.

But she _really _wanted to leave.

So, after putting on a brave face and stretching out Ol' Betsy and the Five Avengers, her lovely and strong fists, she was ready to go. Helga quickly fled the building, shocked to be greeted with a harsh splash of rain.

An oncoming taxi drove by too quickly, spraying up a large wave onto Helga's back.

She held in her shriek of surprise and simply snarled. At any other time she would've cursed the driver out, but she was too tired. Helga began to panic as she searched her body for her phone, praying that it wasn't already ruined by the water. After searching her jeans, Helga finally found the phone hiding her wet backpack. She cupped both hands around the device, only to stop when she realized no rain was hitting her.

Helga looked around, confused. Where did the cover come from? She looked behind her, only to feel herself jump slightly.

A blond gentleman was holding a dark green umbrella above her head, a sincere smile spread across his face. Helga couldn't help but stare at him, dumbfounded. Not only by the shape of his head (_it was a freaking football!) _but the fact that he was helping her at all.

"I like your bow," he shouted over the rain, pointing his free hand at her head.

"Huh?"

He inched closer, still holding the umbrella over only her head. "I like your bow," he repeated, a smirk playing on his lips, "'cause it's pink like your heels."

A blush krept onto Helga's cheeks as she turned her attention to her muddy, pink high heels. She bit her lip, unsure how to respond to the very handsome stranger's compliment.

"Can I walk you home?" he asked, emerald eyes lighting up happily.

She shrugged, "I, uh, I actually need to get to the subway station. I have to get back to work." _To__ sleep there. . ._

"Well, at least let me escort you. It's not safe to be out alone at this time of night. And in the rain, no less." He smiled again and Helga's heart fluttered uncontrollably.

"Sure," she shrugged again and took a tiny step forwards, waiting for him to catch up. He began walking by her side, still holding the umbrella move over her head than his. "I'm Helga, by the way."

He stuck out his free hand and shook hers, "I'm Arnold. It's very nice to meet you."

Helga could only manage a weak nod.


	3. Day 1: Under An Umbrella

Assist Me

**_Day One (Continued)_ - Under An Umbrella**

* * *

><p>Helga's walk to the subway station with Arnold felt too short. It was a decent fifteen minutes, but she wished it went on forever.<p>

They were laughing a lot, walking together side by side in the rain. As they walked, Helga had taken a notice to Arnold's tattoos on his forearms since his rain jacket sleeves kept riding up.

One was done to cover up a terrible scar from a hunting accident, and the other done in a religious ceremony on his sixteenth birthday. The one covering a scar was long and blue, a river, creating a guideline for a fading map. It all looked like a sketch from a journal.

And on his left arm, there was the symbol of the Green Eyed People, an isolated group who lived in the jungles of San Lorenzo.

Arnold was born and raised in the jungle with his parents and the Green Eye people. He was very well educated for a jungle boy.

Their talk of tattoos began a discussion of surgeries and other doctor-related things, since Arnold's parents were now in the medical profession in San Lorenzo.

Helga was telling a story of a simple dental procedure she had when she was nine that had unforseen consequences, "It was terrible, I was half-delusional from the nitrous oxide and I ended up walking into the neighborhood boarding house. I kept on babbling like an idiot, and the older woman who ran it just laughed along and called me Eleanor Roosevelt."

Arnold smiled, "In San Lorenzo, we didn't get any of that. It was either a very small dose of anesthesia from my parents that kept you knocked out for ten minutes or a bat to the head to knock you unconscious for hours."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think my head's permanently dented in some places." Arnold ran his fingers through his blond hair, acting as if he was searching his head for bumps.

The two laughed to fill the silence.

"Thank you again, for, uh, walking me."

"It was my pleasure."

When her train finally rolled up, Helga made sure to shake Arnold's hand one last time, thanking him quickly before running into the subway car. She had, not so subtly, forced her business card into his palm. It gave her full name, cell phone and work numbers.

Helga forced herself not to look out as him as the car pulled away.

Five minutes later, her phone buzzed with a new text message and Helga practically screamed.

**GERALD:** U LIVING IN UR OFFICE AGAIN 2NITE?

Helga yelled internally and fumbled to type out a response. She hated texting on this phone.

**HELGA:** YES. I JUST MOVED OUT OF MY OLD APARTMENT.

**HELGA:** AND TEXT BETTER, YOU WORK FOR A WRITER.

She sighed and clicked the screen off, mentally cursing herself out. What the hell did she expect? They barely had a real conversation. What reason would he ever have for texting her?

**UNKNOWN NUMBER: **I THOUGHT I RECOGNIZED YOU. I LOVED YOUR BOOKS.

Helga's fingers froze over the keyboard. What was a good response? Her heart was practically bursting out of her chest as she stared at the message.

**UNKNOWN NUMBER:** IT'S ARNOLD, BY THE WAY, BUT YOU PROBABLY ALREADY KNEW THAT.

She accidentally laughed out loud before glancing around. The other subway occupants were busy listening to music or sleeping, no one paying any attention to her.

Helga's fingers continued to hover over her touch screen, teeth firmly planted hard over her lower lip. She couldn't believe she was doing this.

**HELGA:** ARE YOU STILL AT WORK? THIS IS KIND OF IMPORTANT.

**GERALD:** I CAN BE THERE IN 5-10.

Thank God Gerald was still being a kiss ass and willing to drop whatever he was doing to help her.

Of course, this was a completely stupid and selfish reason to call Gerald from his home, but Helga wanted a chance with this guy. She couldn't quite explain why, either, but that didn't change her feelings.

The last time she actually had an official date to anything was senior prom. She had had the occasional hook-up in college and at bars, but it wasn't anything serious.

But no one had ever done anything like that for her before. Arnold just stood there holding an umbrella over her head, completely selfless as he stood getting soaked. He just kept_smiling _at her too. He had a great smile.

And his _eyes, _oh my God, they were like two pools of green she could drown in. Helga laughed at herself, the writer in her was getting carried away again.

After getting off the subway and into her office, Helga began to shed her wet clothes and untie her hair. She was freezing and her skin had turned red from the cold. She wrapped herself up in a comfortable sweatshirt and a clean pair of jeans, finally removing her muddy heels. When her bare feet pressed against the carpet, she sighed.

"_I like your bow 'cause it's pink like your heels_." Helga fumbled around the floor, searching for her bow. She quickly tied her hair back up in it, smiling as she imagined Arnold being the one to pull her long blonde hair off her shoulders.

A sudden knock on her office door made her jump.

"Helga?"

Helga's eyes narrowed at the door. She didn't recognize the voice as Mary's or any of the other female assistants. And it couldn't be Gerald's, it was way too girly of a voice.

Wait.

_Gerald married-_

Helga opened the door and collapsed into the arms of her old best friend. Phoebe struggled to hold Helga up, but started to laugh as they hugged tightly.

"Look at you!" Helga began gushing, finally able to easily look into her shorter friend's eyes. She must've hit a growth spurt in college, now nearing Helga at five-foot-six in short heels. Helga tugged on her friend's long hair, amazed that she kept it down.

"Look at you," Phoebe smiled, "I am so proud of you!"

"God, it is so good to see you! I gotta tell you, I'm still a little surprised that you ended up eloping with Tall Hair Boy over there," Phoebe giggled at the mention of her husband's old nickname, "but I hear you're doing very well."

"What was your emergency?" Gerald asked as he cautiously peeked into the bedroom.

Helga smiled, feeling her usually tough exterior crumbling. She rocked on her toes, eyes darting around the room. She was completely in the dark about this situation.

She just had to blurt it out. Say it and get it over with. Gerald would laugh, she knew he would, but she still had the power to fire him.

"I. . .uhm, I need. . .relationship help."

Gerald's eyebrows arched, "Seriously? You're coming to _me _for _relationship _advice? A few years ago you would've told me to fuck off and dealt with it yourself."

Helga collapsed onto her small bed, groaning. "This is different."

"How?"

"Shh, Gerald, it's okay. I got this." Phoebe smiled and wrapped her arms around her friend's shoulder.

"Well, could you be fast?" he asked nicely, "We do have to meet some old friends."

Phoebe nodded and shut the bedroom door. Gerald rolled his eyes and headed towards the waiting room. He unlocked his phone and texted his old college roommate that he'd be arriving at the bar soon. Then he turned on the television, but didn't bother watching it. Instead he listened to the hushed voices, wondering exactly what Helga's problem was.

Helga was the most complicated girl he knew. Some days they were best friends, but most of the time they were at each other's throats with insults and bad jokes.

He never _really _hated her. He was annoyed with her when she pulled stunts like this, but there was no hate. They'd been through a lot together growing up, and he was actually pretty excited to see her again. She made life interesting with all of her drama.

And because of her, he actually fell in love with Phoebe.

It was their first winter break after starting college, but Helga had decided not to come home. She had been so out of touch with everyone, but Phoebe went to her house to see if Helga was around. After Big Bob yelled at Phoebe to leave, she wandered aimlessly around Hillwood. Phoebe was definitely hurt. She felt ignored by her supposed best friend.

Gerald was leaving Slausen's with some senior girl from Hillwood High when he saw Phoebe. She looked very upset and, as a friend, he was worried. The two had never been extremely close, but they had been classmates all their lives, plus Helga became their common bond. He had talked to her occasionally when she was on Facebook, but didn't really know how college was going for her.

So he just walked away from whatever-her-name-was and stood beside Phoebe as she waited for the crossing signal. She had practically jumped out of her skin, but smiled and hugged Gerald anyway.

They ended up spending the entire winter break together, catching up and talking and watching movies. He loved listening to her talk about her passion for science There was a horrible snow storm one night and Gerald ended up having to stay over at her place. He was up half the night, hardly breathing as he thought about her upstairs. He could remember thinking about sneaking up to her room, but the flood of light from behind him scared him stiff.

That's when he felt her small hand trail down along his side. He sat up, smiling as she fell into his lap. Her eyes were full of excitement because she knew she was breaking the unspoken rules her parents had set. His hands wrapped around her and pulled her close, whispering little things like "I couldn't sleep either," and "We need to stay quiet." She tried to suppress her laughter, but it couldn't be stopped.

Acting boldly, he decided to lean forwards and kiss her.

He knew then that was the night he fell in love with her.

Gerald jumped to his feet when he heard Helga's bedroom door open. Phoebe was wearing a smile that told Gerald she knew something Helga didn't.

"So, what's the problem?" Gerald asked.

"No problem anymore," Helga replied before hugging Phoebe again. "Go have fun tonight. But I better see you bright and early tomorrow Gerald. 8 a.m. sharp!"

Gerald saluted her, "Have a good night boss."

He quickly took Phoebe's hand and together the two made their way down to the elevator.

As soon as the metal doors clicked shut, Gerald turned to his wife. "Okay, I saw that look. What is Helga's problem?"

Phoebe smiled brightly, trying to hold back her laughter. Of all the coincidences in the world. . .she never would have guessed. "You'll never guess who she met on her way back to work."

* * *

><p>Helga sighed before rolling her shoulders back. Now she was alone, trying hard to think of the right words to text to Arnold.<p>

_God, I am such a pathetic mess._

After five minutes of staring at the empty text box, she chucked her phone across the room.

She needed a shower and some sleep and forget about her stupid fantasies.

* * *

><p>Gerald covered his open mouth. "Shut up! What did you tell her?"<p>

"Nothing. I told her to really stop and think about what she was saying. She told me she was," Phoebe added air quotes, 'like half-in love' with him!"

Gerald covered his face with his hands and fell down the elevator wall. "This is bad, so very, _very _bad! My boss is in love with my college roommate. Oh my _God, _I think I'm going to freak out!"

Phoebe couldn't help but laugh at her husband, "I think you already are."

"I am so fired."


	4. Day 4: Lunch Hour

Assist Me

**_Day Four_ - Lunch Hour**

* * *

><p>Gerald was on edge, and had been for the past two days.<p>

After having a few drinks with Phoebe, Arnold, and his girlfriend, Gerald couldn't stop thinking about Helga's situation. Helga had a crush on Arnold.

Gerald could remember every relationship Helga had in high school. All ended in disaster because she hated being seen as sweet and sensitive. If a guy said something even remotely nice to her, she'd laugh like it was some twisted joke, punch the guy's arm, and walk away.

And now every time Helga asked Gerald to do something, or talked to him, he was worried she'd bring Arnold up. And if she did, then he'd be forced to tell her the truth. And a heartbroken Helga was a violent one.

But what was worst of all was that neither knew he knew that they knew each other.

It was very complicated.

As Gerald waited patiently for Helga's old and cranky editor to leave her office, he noticed a familiar figure moving in his peripheral vision.

_Shit. _Gerald forgot he'd made lunch plans.

Arnold's smile brightened when he noticed his friend wave him over. He had been confused and feeling awkward searching all of these cubicles for him.

"Hey man," Gerald and Arnold shared their signature handshake. They had created it when they played beer pong together during their freshman year at NYU, hands meeting knuckle-to-knuckle, thumbs wiggling together.

"I am impressed with your office," Arnold teased good-naturedly.

"Hey, I'll take what I can get. Not all of us can live in a penthouse on 5th Avenue with their rich socialite girlfriend."

Arnold laughed as Gerald continued joking about his girlfriend. "You ready for lunch?"

"Yeah, just let me-" Gerald's voice trailed off when he saw the two silhouettes approach the frosted door at the end of the hallway. Helga was coming. And she was yelling very loudly.

"I CAN WRITE WHATEVER I WANT!" Helga screamed.

"You write what SELLS! This is not about YOU anymore! You need to keep making money!" a different voice shouted back.

"I don't want to just make money! It was _never _about the money!"

"Then why are you here?"

"Because I love writing! Now, Let. Me. Write!"

Helga's bitch of an editor stepped out first, shoving Gerald and Arnold out of the way. Helga started to follow her, prepared to pitch Gerald a laundry list of different story ideas, when she stopped short. Her face paled when she realized they'd heard everything.

"Helga!" Gerald smiled, acting quickly and smoothly, "I'd like you to meet my old college roommate. Arnold Shortman, this is my boss, Helga Pataki."

Arnold nodded, acting as if he was unfazed by the yelling, "We've met."

"Really?" Gerald faked being shocked. "When? You've only been in town for a few weeks."

"A few days ago," Arnold replied.

"He helped me to the subway in the rain," Helga added, quickly pulling her files of upcoming manuscripts closer to her chest. A large part of her felt badly for never texting him back. And an even bigger part of her was embarrassed that he'd heard her yelling.

"Oh," Gerald replied. "Well, Arnold and I are off for lunch. I'll be back in like an hour." Gerald turned on his heel and began heading towards the exit, sending telepathic messages to Arnold, _Don't do it. . ._

"Would you like to come Helga?" Gerald froze mid-step. He was _so close_. Damn Arnold and his good nature.

Helga sighed, "I really can't. I have so much work to do. Even more if Gerald's leaving."

Gerald watched as Arnold fake pouted, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. "Aw, come on, one hour won't kill you."

_Might kill me_, Gerald thought.

Helga hesitated, before finally agreeing, "Okay. But just one hour. My editor is already all over my case. . ."

"I noticed."

"Whatever. Let's go," Helga dropped the files onto the edge of Gerald's desk and followed the two boys out to the parking lot. They began walking towards Times Square.

Taxis continued to fly up and down the street as midday lunch rush began. It was an unseasonably hot day for April, the heat made even worse by the thousands of people pushing past.

The three were keeping an even pace with each other, despite the fact that both of the men's strides were larger than Helga's.

Helga figured someone should say something. "So, Arnold, why are you in New York?"

Gerald bit his lip. She was leaning into very dangerous, heart-breaking territory.

Arnold pushed the sleeves of his shirt up as he looked both ways at the crosswalk, "A few reasons. I had to go back to NYU to give my old Anthropology professor some notes about the Green Eyes, and I needed to help Gerald and Phoebe move. Oh, and I moved in with my girlfriend."

A loud taxi horn had made the last part of Arnold's sentence impossible to hear. "What?"

Arnold smiled and leaned down closer to her ear, "I'm living with my girlfriend until I go back to San Lorenzo at the end of the month."

"Oh," was all she could manage to squeak out. Helga didn't really have a good poker face anymore, she knew she looked devastated. Not only did he have a girlfriend, which made her stomach churn, but he was going to be leaving in three weeks.

Gerald quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her across the street, shrugging as Arnold struggled to catch up. Gerald and Helga squeezed themselves under an awning as they waited for Arnold to find them.

"God, I fucking hate myself," Helga seethed under her breath. Her eyes turned upwards and Gerald swore the blue faded into a firey red. "And I hate you too! You couldn't find one second to _tell me that he_-"

"I didn't know you liked him!" Gerald replied desperately, hoping that she'd believe him.

She sighed, shoulders slumping forwards. "I should really go," Helga tried to loosen Gerald's grip on her, but he held firm.

"No. Come on, Helga, what happened to 'Piss Me Off and You're Dead Pataki'? I know you're dying to hit him. Or me. Or her!"

"I would do so much worse to her," Helga smirked wickedly.

"That's the spirit!"

Helga forcefully shoved Gerald's shoulder, releasing her arm before taking off in the opposite direction.

She had just about made her escape when she collided with a familiar chest.

Arnold's arms wrapped around her waist to support her post-collision and Helga found it hard to breathe. Her hands fell against his arms, steadying herself.

Arnold picked her chin up to look her in the eyes, "Hey, where are you running off to?"

"Back to work," she replied harshly, not caring how bad it sounded.

"Uhm, if you're sure you want to. . . .But I'd really like you to stay and have lunch."

Helga shoved herself a few steps back, "I can't. 'Bye."

Arnold watched her disappear into the crowd, feeling himself overwhelmed with disappointment. Gerald appeared at his side. "Is she like that a lot?"

Gerald laughed, "Oh, she's much worse. You caught her on a good day."

* * *

><p>". . .And then, she came up behind the guy and just - <em>blam! - <em>knocked his face right into the brick wall. Poor guy broke his nose and lost a few teeth."

Arnold lowered his soda back to the table, jaw hanging open in shock. "Gerald, I know you're Keeper of the Tales, but there's no way that's true."

Gerald nodded, "It's totally true! She has a scar on her back from where her spine hit a nail in the concrete. I would know, I had to help clean her off."

"Helga just doesn't strike me as the violent type."

Gerald burst into laughter, "My poor, dense friend. She is very aggressive. And mean. But for some reason I don't understand, she's fun to be around."

"Hmmm. Then why did she run off so suddenly?"

Gerald took this moment to shove a handful of fries into his mouth, hoping to distract Arnold and make him forget the question. Plus, it gave him time to think of an answer.

Once he swallowed, he replied, "She's a total workaholic. She literally lives in her office."

"No she does not."

"Yeah. You were there, apparently, you know, in the rain. She was moving the last of her things out of her apartment."

"That's terrible."

Gerald shrugged, "I was thinking about finding her a place in my building so she could see Phoebe more often. And so she can be around to boss me twenty-four hours a day. I checked up on the listings, but one won't be available for three more weeks."

Arnold was silent, only to brighten up as if a lightbulb had flashed above his head. "Wait a second, Gerald. Trish is gone on a fashion tour of Europe, right?"

"Yeah, otherwise saying goodbye last night was for no reason. But I'm completely lost, why are you bringing up your girlfriend?"

"What I'm saying is that I have a guest room in my apartment. . ." Arnold's eyes lit up at his new idea.

Gerald wanted to hit Arnold. That was such a terrible idea on so many levels he couldn't even fathom it. "Are you _nuts_? You don't even know her! Hell, I don't even know her that well!"

"You know I can't stand living alone. And it will only be temporary, until the new apartment opens up."

Gerald's phone buzzed loudly on the table. **HELGA:** I NEED YOU BACK HERE. I HAVE TO PITCH IDEAS TO YOU.

"This is a fucking awful idea Arnold. I know you love helping people, but Helga is one person who will _never _accept your help."

Gerald abruptly rose to his feet, "Now I'm sorry I have to go. Helga needs me." He swung his jacket around his shoulders and turned for the door, before stopping to turn back. "And, for the love of God, Arnold, don't try to convince her. I'm asking you, not only as a friend, but as her employee. Helga may look sweet, but she's a real bitch."

Arnold sighed and nodded, listening his friend's advice.

But as he stayed at the table, he thought about when he met Helga. She looked so scared and vulnerable, lost in the rain. It was like she wasn't sure how to react to being noticed. He felt terrible about not being able to help her now. He grew up helping people, whether they really wanted it or not. Besides, his grandparents owned a boarding house. Renting rooms was in his blood.

**ARNOLD:** I HEARD YOU NEED AN APARTMENT. I HAVE A ROOM IF YOU'RE INTERESTED.

**ARNOLD:** ALSO, DON'T TELL GERALD.

Helga couldn't stop staring at her cell phone screen.

Was this really happening? She was dreaming, right? Totally completely dreaming. She just passed out at her keyboard like usual.

She so badly wanted to text back 'Yes.' She had already typed it out, all she had to do was press send. She really hated her office. And she was technically homeless.

And Arnold was _so cute _and so sweet to offer. Maybe some extended time together was just what her heart needed. . .but he had a serious girlfriend. . .Helga lowered her iPhone.

Gerald ran up the steps, "I'm here!"

"Thank God!" Helga handed over two thick folders, "Go over these ideas and tell me which one you like best!" She hurriedly shut her office door, turning back to her cell.

Somehow her thumb had hit the send button.


	5. Day 4 & 5: Accept Assistance

Assist Me

_**Day Four/Five **_**- Accept Assitance**

* * *

><p><em>Girl travels the world, falls in love with stranger.<em>

Gerald laughed and ran his red pen across the sentence. Helga was losing her touch.

_Futuristic world - _

Nope.

"Helga!" Gerald dropped the file and marched up to her door, knocking loudly. "Helga, your ideas suck!" There was no response, so he opened the door, only to see her sitting in the middle of the hallway, cell phone locked tight in her palm. "What's wrong?"

"N-n-nothing!" Helga scrambled to her feet, "I was just, uh. . .talking with Penguin." Although it seemed like a lie, Penguin had called her earlier that morning before Gerald arrived. She hated receiving bad news.

"What did they say? Are they mad at your editor?"

Helga rolled her eyes, "More like mad at _me_. They gave me an ultimatum, either I write what they want or I'm out."

Gerald followed his boss as she walked into her office. "What? They can't do that!"

She rested against the edge of her desk, arms folded across her chest. "Apparently they can." Helga sighed, realizing how defeated she sounded.

Normally, she would've fought the guys at Penguin for a chance to publish whatever she wanted, but things were different now. She was older, a little bit more mature. The world was cruel, she knew that too. Besides, Helga hadn't been in a fight with someone more important than her editor since she first started writing in high school. She fought Hillwood's school board for her right to write whatever she wanted since Hillwood High's newspaper was run independently from the school.

"You can't just give up!" Gerald smacked the files onto the counter.

"I have to or I lose the chance to be published again. Do you know how hard it was to be taken seriously as an author as a freshman in college? I've written all nine of my books with them because they saw potential in me, I can't just stop because they want to be picky!"

Gerald sighed and sat down on the desk beside Helga. "I swore to myself I'd never tell anyone this, but. . . It was my junior year of college and I got a package from Phoebe. Inside were your first four books. She had written this long note telling me how great they were and how proud she was of you and that I just absoloutely _had _to read them all."

Helga couldn't help but smile. She loved hearing stories of how people found her novels.

"So I did. I picked up _The Blackened Trophy_ and started reading. I missed an entire day of class because I just couldn't put the book down. I didn't eat, hadn't moved from my bed at all. And I was almost at the end, you know," he waited for Helga to say something. She had no idea what part he was talking about.

"At the end, the part where Print and Dash go into the woods together to find their father's dead body, and then they fight and Print runs away and Dash ends up finding her mangled body on top of his father's. . . I was _bawling _my eyes out. I couldn't believe it. I was so emotionally invested into this story that I swore I was Dash. And then Arnold walked in and asked why I was crying-" Gerald smirked, "I still haven't lived that one down."

Helga felt as if someone had kicked the wind out of her. That was unbelievable. "You really read my books?"

"Of course! Phoebe sent me every new book after she finished reading. Then I'd pass them on to Arnold. I think he still has the box in his closet."

"Wow."

"You have talent, Helga. I wouldn't be working here just to play catch up."

Helga smirked and tossed the Penguin ideas into the trash, "Yeah, you're working here for the thousands of dollars I pay monthly."

_Ring. Ring. Ring. _Gerald dove over the desk to pick up the phone, "Helga Pataki's office, may I ask who's calling?. . .Uh-huh. . . Yeah. She has to _what_? Host a Writer's Party?"

Helga snatched the phone away from Gerald, shooing him back to his desk. She mouthed, "Check my e-mails!" before closing her office door. "Hello?"

"Helga! I was worried you'd forgotten," the anonymous voice, who'd jokingly been dubbed Richard Castle by the fellow Best Selling writers, cried into the phone.

"No, you know I'd never forget...Yes, I know it's next week." Helga typed away on her computer, scanning the New York Times Best Sellers List for Fiction. The usual suspects were there - James Patterson, Stephen King, John Green, Nicholas Sparks, along with a few new comers. But way at the bottom, at number 34 (out of 35) was her name and her most recent book, _Harrow's Keep_. It was published over a month ago.

At the end of every month, the Best Sellers would get together and have dinner and drink and enjoy each other's company. It got to be pretty boring, so now Castle was mixing things up with his parties. "What's the theme this month? I want to get the invite out ASAP."

Helga fumbled for a quick idea, "A Black and White Affair?" Where had she heard that before?, she wondered in the back of her mind, some old MTV show?

"Ah! A classic. I'll send out the e-mail tonight. Call me back when you get a location and a menu."

Castle hung up the phone and Helga groaned. She pressed the speaker button on her desk, "Gerald. Find me a location for this freaking dinner party I have to host."

A second later he buzzed onto her intercom, "You have another call from an unlisted number. Do you want to answer it?"

Helga clicked on Line 2 and waited for Gerald to hang up. She assumed Castle was calling back, looking for a final location. "_What?_"

"Hey, it's Arnold." Even his voice sounded like it was smiling.

"Oh," Helga mentally chastened herself for yelling. "Uh. . hey." _Smooth._

"I just wanted to give you my address. Since I'm not working right now, I was hoping maybe you'd like to drop by before you move in. I know you're busy, but after work. It'll only be for a little while, I promise." He paused, waiting for her to protest. She said nothing, "I'm actually cooking something delicious for dinner, so you can eat and check out the place."

Helga felt her cheeks burn. Why was she getting all flustered if _he had a girlfriend? _

Because having a home-cooked dinner in an empty apartment sounded like a date.

"Sure, that sounds good. I'll be around at 5:30."

"Great! It's 350 5th Avenue. Apartment 21A. Just tell the doorman you're there to see Trish. He still doesn't know who I am."

Helga laughed into the phone before saying goodbye.

_It's not a date, _she repeated to herself for the rest of the day. She couldn't focus on anything in particular. Her mouse kept jittering back and forth across her pad, her fingers typed away nonsense. Gerald had taken charge, as he always did, and answered all of the phone calls and e-mails without interrupting Helga.

When 5:30 rolled around, Helga was a mess. She kept repeating her new mantra over and over in her head, but it didn't seem to be working.

And she didn't know why.

_It's not a date 'cause he has a girlfriend._

She really knew nothing about Arnold, besides the fact that he was homeschooled in San Lorenzo and college educated at NYU. How did she know he was good to trust?

He _had_ to be though, if he was willing to walk her all the way to the subway in the pouring rain, letting her use his umbrella without so much as a complaint. No one did things like that anymore.

Before Helga knew it, she was walking into a beautiful apartment building. The lobby resembled that of a hotel, with granite counter tops at the Personal Relations desk, a posh lounge area before the elevators, and polished tile floors.

A man in a dark red coat and sunglasses opened the door for Helga. "Who are you here for, Miss?"

"Trish," Helga responded slowly. The man nodded, pressed a Call button, and waited for the buzz response before pointing to the elevator, "Go to the right elevators and hit 21."

"Thank you," she replied before shuffling into the lobby. She tried not to get too distracted by the beauty of her surroundings.

She tapped her foot impatiently in the elevator, only to feel her jaw drop when the doors opened into a living room.

"Hello?" she cautiously stepped out. Her feet sunk immediately into a plush carpet as her eyes looked down the hallway. A large mirror and coat hangers hung on the wall, along with a gold plate reading 'Trish Jennings' in cute girly cursive.

Arnold appeared in the doorway, waving, "Come on in! Glad you're here. Any trouble finding the place?"

"No," Helga replied as she stepped into the well-lit room. She tried to keep her face expressionless as she gawked at the size of the living room/kitchen/dining room.

The carpet faded into polished white tile, similar to the floor in the lobby. To the left of the entranceway was the large kitchen, everything silver polished and shining. It looked like the most expensive, up-to-date in terms of kitchenware, but Helga knew nothing about it. A large island rested in the middle of the kitchen, covered with pans and knifes and different types of food.

Across from the kitchen was the dining room. It was closed off with glass doors and curtains hanging over them.

Down a few steps, and in the center of it all, was the living room. Large windows exposed the apartment to the city chaos below, and it looked beautiful at sunset. A 60 inch, high definition plasma television hung on the wall with an black wood entertainment system below it.

The color scheme of the apartment seemed to mostly be black and white, Helga noticed. Black leather couch, white pillows. Black and white abstract art on the walls. A circular glass table rested a few feet away from the couch, covered in fashion magazines and different remote controls.

The penthouse apartment was overall stunning. And Helga couldn't believe she'd get to live in it for three weeks. (Gerald had told her his plan to have her move into his building. She was happy that her friends were looking out for her more than she was herself.) But Gerald thought she was still sleeping in her office.

"This place is. . ._wow_."

"Thanks, I had nothing to do with it," Arnold joked. He quickly headed back into the kitchen to finish stirring something. "Sorry! I just want to make sure the dinner's going well. Please, take a seat anywhere."

Helga walked over to the kitchen, surprised to see a bar with a few stools. She jumped up into one and watched Arnold cook. He seemed so focused and desperate for the dinner to go perfectly.

"Thanks again for letting me stay here for a little while."

Arnold nodded, "It's no problem. I love having roommates. Being in the jungle, you start to feel really alone and isolated. I mean, I love my alone time as much as the next guy, but it gets, well. . .lonely."

Helga knew the feeling. "Are you excited to go back?"

"Very." He smiled brightly, "It's my home, you know? It really sucked during college. I didn't see my parents for four years. I worked a lot of jobs to earn money to get flights back, and to get train tickets to Hillwood, but it wasn't enough." He shrugged, "Now Trish's private jet takes me."

"Damn, how much money does she have?"

"I have no idea. It's not really my place to ask."

Helga chuckled, "Uh, I think it is. You've been dating for years, you're even living together! You could become her trophy boy if you wanted."

"Then it would look like I'm just with her for money. And that's not why at all. I love her because she's an incredible person."

An unintentional slap to the face, Helga decided that's what it felt like listening to him. Arnold returned his focus onto the dinner, pouring the spaghetti onto two plates before adding the home-made sauce. He pulled a salad out of the fridge and a bottle of champagne. Helga watched his movements, following him as he wandered into the living room.

Helga smiled gratefully as he poured her a glass of champagne. They clinked glasses, toasting a new living situation. Helga downed her drink quickly, "I have to tell you, this room is bigger than my old apartment."

Arnold shifted awkwardly against the couch. "Yeah, it's pretty lavish. Trish is used to the luxuries in life." He sighed and looked around at the high ceilings, the glass chandelier and exaggerated-sized television. "It's weird to go from a hut in the middle of a forest to a college dorm to this."

Helga swore she heard Arnold's voice echo.

"What was San Lorenzo like?"

"Nothing like the Concrete Jungle," he laughed at his terrible joke. "San Lorenzo is isolated. Very quiet, no noise or pollution or anything. I learned all about the outside world, but never experienced it until I arrived in my parent's plane a few weeks before college. I had to hand write my application to NYU and send it to the nearest city almost a thousand miles away by bird." Arnold sighed and ran his fingers over the map tattooed on his arm. "I miss the villagers, and my parents, but I'll be going home soon."

Helga smiled as she dug into her plate of pasta, "Are you even an American citizen?"

"Yeah. I visited my grandparents when I was two years old. My parents got my citizenship, passport and everything settled. I visit my grandparents more often now, since they're in Hillwood."

"Really?"

Arnold nodded, until he remembered how Gerald knew Helga. "You're from Hillwood."

"Yes. Who are your grandparents, maybe I know them?"

"Phil and Gertie, they run the Sunset Arms Boarding House."

Helga burst into laughter, suddenly recalling her previous mention of a bad experience at the dentist. Arnold continued to stare at her, confused. "Do you remember that story I told you, after the dentist? Well, I was with your grandma."

"No way!"

The two laughed again, this time falling next to each other, shoulders bumping into each other.

She didn't even realize they were curled up against each other on the couch. Helga smiled again, hand hesitantly skating down his forearm. He flexed it reflexively, but Helga could feel the mattered skin as it raised off his arm, the scar never healing as well as it should have.

Arnold held his plate of spaghetti in his left hand, trying hard to balance it against his palm. He didn't mind the closeness. He figured it was a big deal for Helga to feel so comfortable with someone. He knew it was hard for him to relax around strangers.

"So, tell me more about your work."

Helga stopped swirling her spagetti around her spoon and sighed, "It's not that great, actually. It was amazing when I was younger because I was so young. A new, fresh talent. I'm sort of just going day to day, struggling without inspiration."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged, "It's not your fault."

"Gerald is really appreciative of the job. Don't tell him I said this, but he's actually really missed you."

"I'd believe it," she joked. "Don't tell him, but I kinda missed his smug ass too."

* * *

><p><em>Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.<em>

Arnold pressed the entrance button, eyes barely glancing at the security monitor. He was only expecting one person, but he was in for a great surprise when he opened the front hallway door.

Standing in his hallway was a broken and sore Helga. Her shirt had been ripped, her right eye was bruising badly and she only had one small bag on her.

"Oh my God!" He quickly pulled her inside.

She tried to wiggle out of his grip, ignoring her racing heart. "It's nothing, I'm fine."

Arnold gently traced his finger around the growing bruise. "No you're not. Come here," Arnold guided her through the foyer and into the kitchen. "Someone mugged you on the way here?" Helga nodded, lower lip trembling slightly. "Did you call the police?"

Helga laughed, "The police never do anything. You obviously haven't been in New York that long. I gave the guy a right hook but his friend got away with my stuff."

Arnold hummed to himself, suddenly remembering what Gerald had said. Maybe she was a fighter. "Did he try anything else?"

"Nope. I scared him off before he could even get close to me. He just was too quick with my bag. But it's okay. All he got were some old clothes."

"Are you sure you're okay? Here let me make you some tea or something-" Arnold handed her ice wrapped in a washcloth before filling up his kettle with tap water.

Helga slowly put the towel to her eye, inhaling sharply at the cold contact. Arnold disappeared down a hallway, only to return a few minutes later with a large white towel, flannel pajama bottoms and one of his old NYU sweatshirts.

"Do you want anything to eat?"

Helga felt incredibly overwhelmed by her host. "God, Arnold, do you ever stop asking questions?"

"Depends on if you'll ever answer them." He laughed, "Food? Shower? Tea?"

"No. I'm fine. I just need to rest." She paused, "Thank you, though."

Arnold smiled and guided Helga to the opposite side of the apartment. "Hey, what are roommates for? Goodnight, Helga."

"Night." Helga walked into her new temporary room. She put her purse down on the small bedside table and sat down on the mattress. She sprung up and down, testing it's TempurPedic memory foam goodness. She knew she'd never want to get out of bed for work tomorrow.

The soft gray walls went elegantly with the gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling, along with the modern black and white design of the room. The bed's comforter was a solid black with a white stripe across the middle. A Victorian-styled vanity sat on the far side of the room, next to the door to the bathroom. An arrange of black and white photographs hung on the left wall in a zig-zag pattern. They were clearly all done by Trish. Helga would've assumed so anyway, but Trish had an obnoxious Sharpie signature on the corner of each frame. The photos were of Paris, Times Square, Central Park, and one of them Helga found disturibing.

It was a completely_ adorable_ photo of Trish and Arnold standing in the falling snow, Arnold's arms wrapped around her waist and turning her away from the camera. Their noses were just inches from touching and their smiles were incredibly wide. Helga could see the NYU logo on Arnold's scarf, and Trish wore a white knit beanie to hide her dark hair.

Helga wish she knew what she looked like. Trish had to be stunning.

After a shower, Helga put on Arnold's clothes. It had been quite a hurdle to convince herself to put them on, trying not to imagine _certain things_ happening in these clothes. Now she was too wound up to sleep. She wanted to do something, maybe even eat something, but she had been so rude. Her stomach growled loudly in response, making her mind up for her. Carefully peeking out from behind her door, Helga could only see darkness. Sighing in relief, she tip-toed out to the kitchen. If she was really quiet. . .

A sudden burst of light made Helga jump. Arnold's shadow became visible as the colors flashed along the walls.

"Sorry!" Helga cried immediately, feeling herself wanting to curl up and die.

Arnold couldn't suppress his laughter. "It's okay, I was just watching tv. Do you want to join me?"

Helga stopped for a moment, only to finally shrug. "Sure. What are you watching?"

"Gerald gave me these DVDs of a show called _Pop Daddy_. He said it was great and that I needed to watch it."

Helga grinned, "I haven't seen this since I was maybe nine-years-old."

Helga got comfortable on the opposite end of the couch, nodding to the screen to unpause it. Helga had seen every episode in her youth, and as she watched, she was able to recall almost every detail.

As the credits began rolling after the last episode, Helga tried to initiate conversation.

It was an awkward, fumbling attempt to listen to Arnold talk about his college experience. He didn't mind talking about his first exposure to alcohol, parties, and a society whose appeal was focused on appearance.

"When I first asked Trish out, actually, she had been out on her morning run. She wasn't wearing make-up, and was sweaty and whatever. She was completely floored that I chose that moment to ask her out. I had seen her before, at parties and on her way to class all dolled up, but. . I don't know, I guess I don't see the value in caring about someone based on how much powder they wear."

Helga smiled, "You're one of the very few, Arnold."

Arnold rose to his feet, "Want some popcorn? I'm thinking about popping in another disk." Helga agreed, even though it was nearing one in the morning and she had work at seven. But she didn't really care.

Once they reached the Pop Daddy Musical episode, they were in hysterics. As the cop tossed another robber in prison, he broke out into a serious song dealing with the problems of evil.

"This is the best episode," Helga cackled.

"I agree! I can't imagine a tough cop like Pop Daddy singing, but here he is!"

She didn't even realize they were curled up against each other on the couch, blanket spread across their legs. Helga smiled again, hand hesitantly skating down Arnold's forearm. He flexed naturally, but Helga could feel the mattered skin as it raised off his arm, the scar never healing as well as it should have.

Helga leaned forwards across his lap and the bowl of popcorn to read the map, surprised to see that it had marked off certain locations with a small red X. She figured Arnold used an actual map of San Lorenzo, so he'd always be able to find his way back.

Helga shifted back and removed Arnold's NYU sweatshirt, revealing her ripped t-shirt. She had intentionally put it on backwards (in case the rip got bigger it wouldn't reveal too much), forgetting that the rip revealed her scar. Arnold knew about the fight, but somehow felt shocked to see a pink line against her spine.

"How'd you get your scar?" Arnold ghosted his hand against the mark. Helga cringed.

"A stupid fight in high school. Some jerk said some really nasty things about Phoebe, so I smacked him senseless. The guy did manage to get one good hit on me though, driving my back onto a nail in the ground. Nothing big, I survived."

Arnold slowly pushed her fallen hair off her back, sending a pleasure chill down her spine. He smiled when he reached a tangled knot, surprised to see the familiar pink bow. He smiled and tied it back around the end of her hair.

The two sat in a comfortable silence, only to be torn apart when Arnold heard the kettle whistle. "I'll be right back."

Helga collapsed against the cushions and released a quiet squeal. Things were going great already! She didn't really know what to expect anymore, but wasn't going to complain.

Two more hours passed as the new friends stayed curled up together, laughing and sipping cold tea and feeding each other cookies. The entire night was absolutely perfect. Minus getting beaten up - but Helga counted that as a blessing in disguise. She figured that's why Arnold was being so nice and attentive to her.

"How's your eye doing?" Arnold shifted so he could slide some hair off of her face.

"_Fine_. You need to stop worrying so much, Arnold. I'm a big girl."

"Whatever you say, Helga," Arnold replied as he continued to play with her hair, "Whatever you say."


	6. Day 8: Roommates Don't Like Each Other

Assist Me

_**Day Seven/Eight **_**- Roommates Don't Like Each Other**

* * *

><p><em>"How's living with Helga?"<em>

Arnold smiled, "You made her out to sound like an insane monster. But she's not."

_"You just didn't grow up with her," _Gerald laughed into his phone. _"Her place will be ready a week earlier. Are you excited? Only seven days left!"_

"Wow, that's great," Arnold replied with little enthusiasm. He resumed flipping channel on his large flat screen, a box of half-eaten pizza cast aside on the table. Since he had no job, he was stuck at home. Usually he'd wander the city, but he found himself growing bored of the crowds. Oh, how he missed San Lorenzo.

He really liked living with Helga. She was a refreshing, down-to-earth change of pace. Not that he didn't love Trish, because he did, but meeting new people was fun. And Helga was definitely fun.

For the past two nights they'd been up late talking and sharing stupid stories and watching movies. Helga had written a list for him. Most were "classics" that Arnold had never seen or would've chosen to watch. _Ferris Bueller's Day Off, The Godfather, Pulp Fiction, Star Wars, The Shawshank Redemption, Kill Bill, Jaws,_ every Alfred Hitchcock movie, _Casablanca _and a few features. He'd watch three or four during the day, and they'd play one during dinner, and then after they were ready for bed they'd settle down to watch more. Helga also brought over another tv show, called _Yo Ernest!_

Helga even read some of her most recent book,_ Harrow's Keep, _aloud, before reaching the second chapter and bursting into laughter at how serious she was taking it. She had done different voices for the narrator and characters. It was hilarious to see her imitate a guy's voice.

Gerald continued talking, _"Don't worry, Trish will be home sooner than you think. Besides, you already okayed that party for next Saturday, so you have that to look forward too."_

"Technically it's Helga's party. I'm just letting her use our place."

_"Your place," _Gerald corrected.

"Right."

"Gerald, stop talking to your boyfriend and help me-" Helga's voice echoed over the phone. Arnold smirked before hanging up.

Helga pushed a few pieces of paper onto Gerald's desk. "Which interview should I take? They're all scheduled for the same day."

Gerald glanced at the sheets, "Yeah, but at different times."

"You can't do more than two interviews in one day unless you're desperate. I am not desperate yet."

Gerald tapped his pen against the desk, thinking hard. "Well, who is going to be the audience of your book? That'll help decide if you want to be on an early morning or late night show."

"Do I want mothers watching me or all adults? Should I even try and aim for teens?"

"Nah, avoid MTV. I say do the Today Show and Conan. They're next Tuesday. Okay, I'll call and get it all set up."

Helga smiled, "Thanks, Gerald."

"It's what you're paying me $2,000 for! Now go back to writing!" Helga rolled her eyes and shut her office door.

* * *

><p>"I'm home! I have take out!" Helga dropped the brown bag from the Chinese place down the street onto the counter, tossing her keys and purse on the island. It was silent. "Hello? Arnold?"<p>

A few seconds later the elevator opened and Helga heard Arnold talking on the phone, "No, I've just been hanging out. I got some great movie recommendations so I've been doing that for the past few days. . . .Of course I miss you. . .No, I haven't checked. E! .com?" Arnold readjusted his headphones as he fiddled around with the screen of his phone, pulling up whatever Trish wanted him to see. "Okay, got it. No._ Wow_, you look stunning..."

Helga tuned out of eavesdropping because Arnold was standing in front of her shirtless. His toned upper body was glistening with sweat and his t-shirt had been draped around his shoulders like a towel. Sweat had also formed on his brow and his running sneakers were coming untied. He'd obviously been on an intense run. . ._Stop staring_, Helga hissed in her head.

These feelings were getting to be a real pain. Every time she found herself getting too chummy she'd crack a stupid joke or nudge Arnold in the shoulder. She was afraid of getting too comfortable, and terrified she'd snap at him, like she had with her past boyfriends.

They were becoming close. Up most of the night talking and watching movies. Sometimes they'd drift close together on the couch. She'd even given him a nickname, Football Head, that made him laugh every time he heard it.

They also swapped stories about Gerald's embarrassing moments.

Arnold also talked about Phoebe and Gerald's wedding, which Helga didn't even know had happened. "Poor guy was a nervous wreck. But as soon as the church doors opened and Phoebe walked in. . .I don't think he could stop smiling."

"Where was it?"

"It was a small thing in Hillwood. Family only. Phoebe didn't want it to become a huge party or spend a lot of money. Trish was very willing to help, but Phoebe and Gerald refused. They didn't even have a honeymoon."

"Wow. I have to say, I figured Gerald would've thrown a very lavish wedding."

"I did too." Arnold smiled, "Gerald told me he didn't care if they got married at City Hall or on the moon, just as long as he was marrying Phoebe."

Helga smirked, "Who knew he was secretly romantic?"

"I did." Arnold's cheeks turned a little red, "He's been giving me advice for years."

Helga forced a small laugh. "With Trish?"

"Yeah. And other girls, too, I guess. Before her."

"Oh." Helga couldn't tell if she was making the situation awkward or not. "Yeah, now that I think about it, Gerald gave me guy advice too. I guess I never connected that to romance."

Arnold coughed to fill the sudden silence before turning back to the TV. He picked up his plate of Chinese and smiled, "Ready for _The Notebook_?"

Helga couldn't keep her face straight, "Why did you rent the girliest chick flick in the world?"

"Isn't Nicholas Sparks a great author?"

Helga shook her head, "He has a formula. White, heterosexual couple. One rich, the other poor or bad. They have a ridiculous whirlwind romance, but have to separate for college or because of their parents or something equally ridiculous. Then someone dies. A parent, usually. And then the couple gets back together."

"Then why is it so popular?"

"Because girls love romance and the poor boyfriends are stuck taking them to the theaters."

Arnold nodded. "I saw that one with Miley whatever. Trish made me go see it."

"My point. Was she crying when the dad died?"

"Yeah."

"Most people do." Helga shrugged, "That one got to me too. Something about the little boy really depressed me."

"So, you ready for this?" Helga nodded. Arnold smiled at her, "Just don't make fun of me if I actually cry, okay?"

"Don't worry. Gerald and I watched _P.S. I Love You_ with his little sister after she had a bad break up and he cried."

"He also cried while reading your book."

Helga smiled, "He told me. I'm pretty sure that story guaranteed him his job. I actually thought he was lying for a little while."

"Nope. He was crying like a baby."

The movie began and Helga found herself remembering the first time she saw the movie. Phoebe had forced her to go to a sleepover with another old classmate, who was very rich and very girly, named Rhonda. Helga called her Princess. All the girls gathered around Rhonda's big flat screen tv, ate ice cream, and talked about how hot Ryan Gosling was.

Suddenly, Helga felt an overwhelming pang in her chest.

She was actually _homesick_.

Arnold could sense something was wrong with Helga. Her brow was deeply furrowed and her eyes looked very glassy. She was focusing on one point near the tv screen, not actually watching the movie. Arnold slowly slid over closer to Helga, handing her some of his blanket in the process.

Half-way through the movie Arnold realized Helga had fallen asleep. She was partly leaning on his shoulder and he felt badly about getting up and waking her. They had had so many late nights recently. Instead, he shifted a little so he could lie down with Helga still curled against him.

He resumed watching the movie, feeling an ache settle in his chest when Noah and Allie broke up. Their characters seemed to hit very close to home.

* * *

><p>"HELGA! WAKE UP!"<p>

Nothing could've prepared Helga for this wake up call.

She screamed and rolled onto her side, collapsing onto the cold tile floor of the living room. Groaning in pain, she sat back up to stare at Arnold, eyes wide. _We fell asleep together?_

Gerald was standing behind her, glaring down at Helga. He had called both of them at least twenty times. It was almost two in the afternoon. "I am very upset." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"We overslept," Arnold said.

"_Just _slept," Helga emphasized. "And besides, I'm your boss. I don't have to answer to you!"

"I have your questions for the interviews. We need to do some prep and you need to write more!"

Helga finally got up off the ground. "I'm at the 100th page, relax. I sent it to my editor yesterday."

"Great. Let's get you to your office. We need to-"

"Hey, Gerald, take a breath. I need to shower." Helga pushed her old classmate onto the couch and walked towards her room.

She needed a shower, yes, but she really needed to think.

What the hell were they doing sleeping on the couch? She couldn't even remember falling asleep. She had been reliving her high school relationships, friendships and otherwise when suddenly Gerald yelled at her.

There had only been a few serious guys in Helga's past. Unfortunately, Gerald was one. A good guy deep down, but he'd never truly show it back in high school. He wanted to be cool, and nothing could tear him away from popularity.

Brainy - Brian, really, was another. Her fall back date for any and all social events. Drunk hook ups usually followed suit, but were never too heavy.

Growing up, he had been known to follow her around, wheezing and blinking. Doing no harm really, except getting too close for comfort. So Helga took to punching him in the face. Eventually, the stalking stopped and she got to know the guy. He was pretty decent. Nice, funny, but really shy. The last thing she'd heard about him was he was making quite a fortune in investments in restaurants, hotels, luxury cruises.

As far as serious boyfriends went there were a couple. She'd go on dates often, but she never really kept it together long enough for an actual relationship. Jokes about her strength or attitude usually turned a guy off. Two guys made it through: Wolfgang and Sid.

Wolfgang had been an ass her entire life, always beating people up and just flat out bullying people. Which is why they got along so well. It also caused quiet a few fights. But there had been a nice six months in there, when they stopped acting like jerks and actually bonded over movies, tv, views on the world. Wolfgang secretly loved reading, anything and everything he could get his hands on. But he had to keep his idiot act up for appearances.

It seemed that everyone kept a secret or two in high school.

Then there was Sid. He was probably the most honest person Helga knew growing up, always 'keeping it real,' saying the hurtful things straight out. He did have the tendency to become paranoid over anything potentially harmful to him. Germs, animals, FBI. But as he got older, he picked up weed. Blew the paranoia right out of him.

Helga wasn't really sure what they had in common, looking back now. Maybe it was because he was so straight, telling her upfront to "cut the shit and be yourself." No one had ever seen through her act. She and Sid dated for almost an entire year, which was like a lifetime in high school.

Anger was her cover up. Kept her from getting to musy, lovey-dovey with anyone. She almost let her guard down with Arnold, but was quick to stop it. He was in a serious relationship, seriously in love with his girlfriend.

Helga would never allow herself to be the other woman.

Helga's eyes went wide as she searched around her room for a piece of paper or her phone. Inspiration always struck at any hour, so she'd picked up the habit of carrying something with her at all times.

Damn it, where was her idea notebook?

There was a loud knock on the door. "Helga?" She jumped at the sound of his voice, forgetting that she had to actually answer. "Helga? I have something you might want."

"Sure, hold on a second-" Helga quickly changed her shirt and ran to the door. Arnold was leaning against the doorframe, holding a black leather notebook in one hand. "I know you don't do anything without this on you," he said.

"Yeah," she quickly plucked it out of his hands, "every writer has one."

"Oh, it's your idea book?"

She turned her head, trying to keep herself calm. "Something like that."

"Cool."

He didn't leave.

Helga rocked on her heels, waiting for him to get the hint. She hadn't responded or moved from her spot. And slamming the door in his face was rude. Couldn't he see she had stuff to do? "Well, I have to shower and get to work, so. . ."

Arnold suddenly sprang to life, "Right, sure, sorry, I'll just go."

Helga closed the door and quickly stripped, pulling her robe on before counting to ten. She'd been very good at avoiding seeing Arnold. Her bathroom was a little more than ten steps away, but she still ran to and from. The last thing she needed to complicate matters was being seen naked.

She couldn't afford any more complications. She was already crushing on her roommate, thinking about him all day at work, dreaming about him, cuddling with him and watching movies. This entire ordeal screamed complicated.

But he didn't like her as more than a friend.

* * *

><p>Arnold stood in the kitchen, rubbing his sore eyes and trying to focus on not burning the apartment down.<p>

He remembered feeling this way about Trish, in the beginning, before he asked her out. That thrill when she looked at him, that little nervous glance he'd give her when she wasn't looking. His heart beat always racing against his chest.

But this was different somehow. There was this dull ache when he sent her off to work, another jump and flutter in his stomach when she got home. He loved hearing about her day, laughing at whatever joke Gerald had made, and always begged to read her newest pages. She'd hand him a red pen.

He could never find anything beyond a typo of a comma instead of a period. "That's why you're not an editor," she joked.

He liked her laugh.

This wasn't right. He was with Trish. He loved Trish. Lived with Trish.

So why was Helga using his - her - shower?

Arnold sighed and turned his oven off, pulling out his nicely cooked sandwich. Another groan left his lips.

Gerald looked up from the tv, "Something you'd like to share with the class?"

"I have a problem."

"I'm a paid problem solver. Spill." Suddenly his sandwich looked unappetizing. He brought it over to Gerald, who accepted the food. "What's wrong, Arnold?"

He just ran his fingers through his hair and tried to forget how soft her fingers felt as they ran over his tattoo.

"I. . ." he sighed. The shower suddenly shut off. Shit. He couldn't say it if Hegla was in ear shot. "I don't know, I just really miss Trish. It's thrown me all out of whack."

Okay, great, now he was lying too?

Ugh, everything sucked.

"Maybe you just need a change of scenery. Holding up in your apartment all day can't be good for you if there's pictures of her all around. Why don't you come back to Hillwood with Phoebe and I for the weekend?"

He did miss his grandparents. And he could clear his head.

"Yeah, Gerald. That sounds like a great idea." Then his face fell. He couldn't have a good time knowing she'd be alone here, miserable. "I think Helga's homesick."

"So bring her along. It'll be nice to get that stick out of her ass for a little while."

"I heard that!" Helga shouted as she slammed her bathroom door. Gerald burst into laughter as Arnold rolled his eyes.


End file.
